


Bloomin' Heck

by Hezjena2023



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 69, Antivan costume, Character Study, F/M, Oneshot, Oral Sex, PWP, Shadow!verse, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023
Summary: “The Antivans certainly understand the temptation inherent in the art of undressing.”“Impractical, you mean?” She murmured, casting her hands before her as if to say, look at the state of me. Mirwen’s eyes filled with a wicked look, before she drew out the lacy white fabric of her undergarments, long enough that the cloth started at her waist and ended at her knees. She narrowed her eyes at him scutinistingly, “or do you just really like the big knickers?”
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Mirwen Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Bloomin' Heck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dore_N](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dore_N/gifts).

> Huge thank you to DoreNaErgoSum for letting me borrow Mirwen <3

Mirwen stretched her hands out towards her foot, but found it ridiculously out of reach. Her body was bound in an Antivan dress, and the bodice refused to bend, so she could not reach down to untie the laces on her heeled boots. While the night had been an overwhelming success, the Inquisition gaining valuable allies to the north, her costume was starting to tire her. 

She struggled to pull her leg high enough, managed to scrape her fingertips against her boot laces and promptly overbalanced onto the little sofa. 

“Having fun, are we?” 

“Creators!” 

Solas chuckled, slouched deliciously against the balustrade at the top of her stairs. All the weight on one elbow, with a delicate crystal glass filled with amber liquid in his free hand. 

She couldn’t help but smile, her heart fluttered a little under her ribs and she pushed a stray auburn lock from her forehead. “How long have you been there?” She strikes a hand on her hip, to give her the air of chastisement.

His eyes graze across her posture, across the costume she had been forced into. She wears it with grace, the foreign garbs and strange undergarments. He had been watching her all evening, a noted the moment she slipped through her door to her quarters. “Long enough,” he smirked cryptically. 

Mirwen huffed at him.

His gaze flicked over her, coming to rest against her red lined cheeks. Carved  _ vallaslin  _ covered with a thin layer of powder, so thin that it did not diminish the crimson tattoos. His eyes scanned across her flustered face. And carefully, he placed the glass down gently and crossed the room to her, “may I offer you assistance?”

She paused for a moment, drinking him in, before standing again. He had been likewise manhandled into a costume approved by Josephine, only he had handled the whole affair with rather more amusement. He’d ended up in some midnight blue catastrophe of cobbled together waistcoat over a puffy white shirt that was far too big for him. The colour did not suit him, clashed against his skin and faded his eyes. 

Mirwen turned around, pointing over her shoulder at the fastenings of her heavy ring velvet dress. “Help me get this off.”

A heartbeat later, his fingers ghosted along her back, picking apart the tiny metal hooks from the miniature eyes. Half a hundred eyes, in a ladder, all along her spine. As the dress slipped from her shoulder, Solas ducked his head to press a kiss against her bare skin at the base of her neck. Breathing in her scent and drawing her into a shiver. 

The velvet dress puddled at Mirwen’s feet, t urquoise and teal folded into an intricate crumpled mess. As the intricate patterns woven into the ring velvet were lost in the waves of scrunched fabric. Reaching up, Mirwen pulled the pins from her hair and tossed them across the room. 

His fingers joined hers, until her curls were spilling across her neck and shoulders. 

When they were done, she ran her fingers through her scalp and shook the last of the up-do away, dispelling the evening and the remnants of the party that continued below them, without them. Then she turned back, facing him. And pressed her fingers into his chest, till her palms lay flat against the twice damned velvet waistcoat. “You look ridiculous, I cannot believe you let Josephine talk me into this.” 

She flicked the buttons of his waistcoat open with her fingertips. Pushing the open garment back and off his shoulders in a fluid motion, disposing of the whole affair in a moment. Leaving him left in an oversized shirt that was apparently incredibly fashionable in Antiva. Before it had even hit the floor, she guided him back a step, pointedly stepped over the bunched and crumpled fabric. Then tugged at a large bow wrapped around his neck, till the fabric was draped loose. 

“I do recall it was you who-.” He broke off suddenly, and cast an evaluating eye across her, “you should be painted like this,  vhenan. ”

Mirwen laughed, “I want no record of this awful dress.”

“Not,” he paused, his tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip, “in the dress.” He took another step back to rack in the sight of her, making particular note of the pale peach ribbons tied around her knees holding up wooden stockings. He took a breath to steady himself, just looking at her, he was half sure that he would come undone there and then, “the Antivans certainly understand the temptation inherent in the art of undressing.”

“Impractical, you mean?” She murmured, casting her hands before her as if to say,  _ look at the state of me.  _ Mirwen’s eyes filled with a wicked look, before she drew out the lacy white fabric of her undergarments, long enough that the cloth started at her waist and ended at her knees. She narrowed her eyes at him scutinistingly, “or do you just really like the big knickers?”

It took him a moment to flick his gaze back up and he blinked slowly as though he hadn’t heard a word she had spoken. “Something, something, your Dalish sensibilities,” he hummed. Which she might have taken as a slight but for the very hungry look in his eyes. As he returned to her embrace, he dipped his head at her neck and growled in elvish, sweet words which curled in Mirwen’s belly. 

Leaning back, she tutted at him. The pretence of scandalisation curling her lips into a grin, “I’m Dalish enough to understand that, you filthy man.” She smacked him playfully on the wrist and then raised an eyebrow and tilted her head towards the bed. “Well, if you really wish to  _ taste me _ ? What exactly are you waiting for?” 

His hand reached out for her hipbone and she could feel the warmth of his palm through the thin lace, fingers beggingly curled into her flesh, “I would not have you believe I am slacking in my attentions.” His hand trailed up from her hip to duck underneath the loose fabric of her short chemise to find the waistband of her frilly drawers. 

Mirwen pressed her hips forward into his touch, “don’t try to distract me.” She breathed, her words lost almost to a moan. A desperate sound that escapes her throat, in frustration and anticipation.Mirwen pressed kisses back into his neck, nipping at the pulse, “get on the bed.” She found that she did not need to use her Inquisitorial voice for her lover to respond. Her words were command enough. 

Solas bowed his head to her slightly, like a true Antivan gentleman. And did as she bid, stepping over to the bed, careful to avoid her discarded dress and his own waistcoat. He sat back on the edge of the bed, and stretched his legs out in front of him, resting back on his elbows. “And now that you have me here-” He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a question.

He looked almost leisurely lying back on the bed, but there was an undercurrent of tension, a ripple of longing causing chaos just below the surface. 

She steadied her gaze and the edge of a smile graced across her lips. He wants her, and she knew it. She drank him in, the long lines of him. The way the loose shirt hung across his ribs, juxtaposed with the deliciously tight trousers that hugged the faint curved of his thighs, the bend at his knee and the flair that marked the muscle at his calf. 

_ Intoxicating. _

She dragged her hand over to her hip, and then the other followed behind a moment later. And then shot him a playful pout, and let her fingers find her waistband. Her fingertips, ghosting over the places where his hands had been moments before. “You mentioned something about undressing?”

“I did.”

In one elegant movement, she had pulled the fabric down. Shimmied out of the drawers and kicked them off. 

Her action earned her an appreciative groan and instinctively Solas’ hand had reached out for her, but she was half a pace two far back, so his fingers clutched at the empty air. 

She smirked at him, overconfident, “so impatient.” The words caught on her tongue, and she swallowed a grin. She took a steady step towards him, her heels boots clicking sharply against the wooden floorboards. She bent as low as her tight undergarment would allow her, barely bridging the gap between them to graze a kiss against his lips.

But, he was already moving, closing the distance between them. Arching himself up to move into place. When he recaptured her mouth, the bit down softly on the soft flesh of her bottom lip, and slipped his tongue inside. His hands found the curve of her arse and then the hot, soft flesh on the other side of her thigh. “I am not the only one who is impatient.” He dropped his head against her cleavage, breasts still artfully pushed forward by the tight chimese. 

Mirwen pulled back from his touch, and she stepped her foot up to the bed. And coughed in the back of her throat, “your assistance.” She tilted her head to the laces on her boots. 

Solas pulled back slightly, to glance up at her brilliant green eyes. Green like his mark, green like the breach, green like-. He was lost in them for a long moment. Long enough that she had to cough again. He flicked his gaze to the laces and raised an eyebrow. 

Pointedly, he removed his hand from between her legs, and did not break eye contact as his slim fingers gently undid the first lace. Carefully, he took her knee and lifted her leg. 

Balanced on a single foot, she clung against his shoulders. Nails digging in, and a whimper on her lips as he inched her closer to him. 

He flicked the boot from her foot and tossed it against the ground. Closing his eyes as the shoe hit the wooden floorboards. Trailing his palm from her ankle, and twisting around her calf, his fingertips ghosted like rune marks up her stockings still he found the knot of the pale peach ribbon. 

“Leave it,” Mirwen breathed, face flushed delicately underneath her crimson  _ vallaslin _ . “Get me out of this.” 

His eyes flicked open, curiocity playing across his features. He noted the quick rise and fall of her chest, breasts practically spilling over her restrictive neckline. Sitting up fully, with his head against her belly, his hands found the restraints of her chemise. 

Newly freed, she twisted back to wrench her last shoe off, and straddled him properly. Grinding her hips into his. “You are wearing far too many clothes,” she chastised, as she pulled the garment over her head. Flinging it across the room to a clothing pile of its very own. She pinned him with her gaze and then caged him with her hands, one on either side of his head.

His breath was stolen by the quite determined look in her eye. “And do tell, am I supposed to remove anything with you on top of me?” Solas asked so seriously that it took Mirwen a moment to realise that he was teasing her. He sucked her lower lip that had pouted in protest. Then his tongue slipped back into her mouth and she rocked back as he tightened a grip around her hip. 

She pulled back, crowned by her loose auburn curls that cascaded on either side of her heart-shaped face. “You’re a clever man,” she murmured, rolling her hips against his straining trousers, “I’m sure you that you can figure out a solution.” 

He began a protest, logical words that would find no way through her illogical armour. 

She was inspired and he would get his desire. She shimmied her way up till she was straddled his chest.

“Mirwen?” He questioned, before his eyes narrowed for a single heartbeat, until he realised exactly what she had in mind. Capturing her hips with his hands, he dragged her until she was sat on her knees, spread open above his face. ‘Fenedhis,’ he breathed. His hot breath leaves her writhing, and she whines something floating high above him. Delicately, carefully, he touches her tongue to her, a gentle offering. 

She gasps and her knees snap tighter around his head. Her hips rock without her, in a desperate attempt to his sweet mouth. 

Solas, buried his face in her, locking his hands around her hips, to bring her closer to him. He protested mildly as she pulled away from his grasp, which turned into a heavy breath of disappointment as he realised she was doing more than simply shifting to a better position. After a heartbeat, his hands released her and he propped his head up. An inquisitive look shining in his eyes. 

“I am not done,” she gasped through through trying to catch her breath. As she saw his look, smirked and echoed back the words that he had spoken in elvish, “ _ I want to taste you, too _ .” 

_ “Fenedhis lasa.”  _ He groaned as she lay back across him. 

Balancing on her propped elbows, her fingers scratched at the bindings of his trousers. Frowning in frustration as she tangled the laces into little knots. The whole process complicated as she could do nothing more that lose herself for a moment in the sweet runes his hot tongue traced against her tender flesh. Closing her eyes, she arched her back to the feeling and sagged a little into his touch. Then blinking and alert she ripped the remaining ties open, gasping hot breath upon his newly freed erection.

When she took him into her mouth, she moaned as he hit the back of her throat; gasping and humming and faintly trying to remember how to breathe. She ran the nails of her unmarked hand against the inside of his still trousered thigh, then pulled slightly back to give her room to breath. She wrapped her marked hand around the base of his cock. The green light from the anchor colouring all of her senses. 

She sagged back against the sheets, breathing heavy and revealing in the aftershocks. Lazy limbed she couldn’t find the will to move as Solas he twisted round to lie parallel to her. 

He threw a hand over her waist and rolled to face her, hand sneaking up to her face. The pad of his thumb wiping away a dribble of cum that had fallen down her chin. A dribble that had escaped her attention.

‘Hey,’ she protested softly, gazing at him with lidded eyes. But curled into him, tucking her head at the hollow of his neck. “I knew it was the big knickers.” She accused sleepily and felt his chuckle in his chest. 

  
  



End file.
